Elusion(3)

“That’ll be fifteen credits,” she says.

I grab my bag and rifle through the contents to find my passcard. In an effort to hurry things up, I dump my bag out on my lap. Lately I’ve been so disorganized and distracted. I just can’t lose my passcard. If I don’t find it, I’ll probably get kicked off the train. I also won’t be able to buy anything, get into school, or unlock the front door at home. It’s the key to everything.

“I haven’t bought an Equip yet.” The salesperson carries on, oblivious to the fact that I’m becoming more flustered by the second. “But my grandkids can’t get enough of it. They’re always telling me about their adventures. My grandson said he went rafting last week in an adventure Escape,” she says proudly. “My other grandkids live in DC and they’re so jealous. Can’t get Elusion there. At least not yet.”

Thank God, I finally find my passcard. Stupid thing was hiding under my O2 shield. “Here you go. Sorry.”

The woman takes the card and scans it, then hands it back to me, along with the pack of gum I just purchased. She also continues to ramble like someone who hasn’t had a real conversation in months.

“That Patrick Simmons kid is going to be a zillionaire when the CIT approval comes through. I don’t want to even think about how old he was when he invented Elusion.”

“He didn’t invent it,” I correct her. “David Welch did.”

The woman raises a curious eyebrow. “Wait a minute. I think I heard about him on the news a while back. HyperSoar accident, right?”

I nod my head and avert my eyes. I avoid discussing my dad with my mother or Patrick as much as possible, so I’m certainly not going to turn all chatty with some stranger on the Traxx.

“What a way to go. Burning up in the atmosphere like that.” The saleswoman leans her upper arm against the headrest of a man sitting on the end of the opposite aisle and he doesn’t even flinch. “No pain, though. I’m sure that’s a comfort to his family.”

Oh God.

I dig my fingernails into my hand, hoping the sting and pressure in my palms will distract me.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

All of a sudden, the Traxx loses speed, causing everyone to lurch forward in their seats. A robotic-sounding voice notifies passengers of a stalled turbotrain on the T line, the central connection for the entire transport system. The saleswoman mutters something about how awful all this construction is on the Traxx and curses some guy in charge of the expansion program before stalking away, leaving me alone as she moves down the aisle and into another car.

I let out a sigh of relief and stretch forward a little, so I can see past the man on my left and out of the Traxx’s egg-shaped window into the Florapetro cloud–filled sky. No other trains are lurking in the distance. That’s a good sign. Perhaps they’ll be able to return to full throttle soon.

I twist my head to get a better view of the city beneath. We’re on the outskirts of the heavily industrialized Inner Sector, the giant cinder-block factories and towering steel skyscrapers forming an impenetrable wall. Nearly nineteen million people live and work here, making the Inner Sector stations the most congested. There are always delays.

Luckily, the train isn’t stopped for long, and within a few minutes it’s rocketing past huge electronic billboards, many of them flashing advertisements for Elusion and the company that manufactures it—Orexis.

A better world is inside your mind.

Orexis will take you there!

It’s never been so easy to get away.

Find the perfect destination with Elusion!

I place a piece of gum on my tongue and wince at the tart citrus taste. I glance at the redheaded identical-twin sisters perched in the seats across from me, totally spacing out behind their visors, their mouths agape in the same zombielike fashion. Dressed in pencil skirts and fitted blazers, they look like they’re traveling for work. Most office jobs operate on the Standard 7 cycle—seven a.m. to seven p.m., seven days a week. Whatever Escape they are in right now is probably the closest they’ll ever get to a real vacation, given how hard it is for people to take time off.

My mom was like that—a successful nurse-practitioner with a hectic reverse-shift schedule. Somehow she always found a way to make time to be with her family, but now . . .

I rub the back of my neck, willing myself to think of something else, but it’s really hard to do with all these Equips around me, triggering memory after memory of the way things used to be. I know my father would have been so happy, seeing how much people are enjoying Elusion. And if he were here, he’d probably ask me why I’m not one of those people.

Elusion could help me feel better—make me forget how difficult it is, living each day without him—even if only for a short while. But the last time I Escaped and came back to reality, the pain of losing him was a thousand times worse.

A few moments later, my gum has changed from citrus to mint and the robotic voice of the Traxx crackles through the speakers once again, announcing our arrival in the Inner Sector. All around me, Elusion wristband alarms begin to sound, lulling everyone out of their Escapes. The twins sitting across from me move in slow motion, taking off their visors before pulling the buds out of their ears. Their eyes flutter open and they stare into space, the muscles in their faces quivering. My stocky neighbor lets out a deep moan as he disconnects from his Equip and then sits there, almost like he’s catatonic.